


Dust

by ywhiterain



Category: Angel - Fandom, Buffy: The Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-27
Updated: 2010-11-27
Packaged: 2017-10-13 10:01:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/136032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ywhiterain/pseuds/ywhiterain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Buffy, Angel, and an empty room after it was supposed to be the end. Again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dust

The first thought he had when he woke up was that he was supposed to be dead. The second was that he knew he wasn't in hell because of the fingers gently running through his hair. He knew those hands.

"Buffy." His mouth felt like it was coated in dust.

"This a low blow," she told him. "I want to be so angry at you. But you're hurt."

"I'll try and keep that in mind."

"No more talking," she scolded. "Or moving. Just sleep."

Angel was tired so he slept.

-

When he woke up, Buffy was applying bandages to his arms. Or, rather, from the looks old ones, soaked in blood, on the floor next to her knee, reapplying them.

"How bad is it?"

Buffy waited until she'd finished smoothing over the bandage on his arm to speak. "You'll still need to rest for a few more days." Her hand, absently, slid down his arm and rested on his wrist. "Are you hungry?"

"No," Angel said and it was the truth. He sat up, carefully, and asked, "What's going on?"

With her spare hand, she pointed to the direction of the door. "Out there? Pretty much hell on earth. But it shouldn't take more than a few more days for the Slayers to handle it."

"That's pretty convenient," Angel said, giving her a look.

Buffy's expression was innocent. "Funny, that."

Angel looked over the room he was in. He could smell that the wood that made up the walls was rotting. The room looked as if someone had given it an once-over in order to clean up the dust - and mostly succeeded. In the left-hand corner was a trash can, medical supplies on an end table, and a small refrigerator Angel assumed contained blood and food. It was also familiar; Angel had been here more than once for business related to Angel Investigations, it was just a few miles south of the Hyperion Hotel -

"Was I alone when you found me?"

"No," Buffy said, but from the tone of her voice, Angel could tell it wasn't a good 'no'. "There were three other bodies. Willow was able to confirm Gunn and Fred, though she said Fred looked different and - "

"It's her," Angel said. He really didn't want to get into all the details.

He also didn't want to think about the fact that even Illyria died. Which would inevitably bring him to thoughts of Wes.

"You said three," Angel said. He was pretty sure he knew where this was going, but he had to be sure.

Buffy's tensed and her grip on Angel's wrist tightened. "Spike."

There was nothing Angel could say, so he settled with setting his other hand on top of hers. It hurt to move his arm in that position, but he pushed the pain out of his mind.

"You're going to make it worse," Buffy said. She didn't pull away or attempt to move Angel's arm.

"Doesn't matter," Angel told her.

"We didn't find the rest of the bodies," Buffy said in a rather detached and even tone. He found himself wondering, with littler surprise at the notion than he'd like, if that was the voice she used to tell the friends and families the news of fallen Slayers.

"Cordy and Wesley died before that fight," Angel told her as he stared across the room and fought down the burning behind his eyes. He knew those words would never get any easier to say over the years. The only thing that kept him from wishing that it would was his fear that it would be granted.

"Angel - "

Something in the tone of her voice reminded Angel of his son. He jerked his head towards her, with only the vaguest notions of pain jolting down his spin, "Connor."

"Who?" Buffy asked.

"I need to be sure he's okay," Angel said, feeling only dimly aware of what she was saying.

When he started to stand up, Buffy shoved him back down on the bed. "Even if you make it to the door, there's no way you'll be able to handle what's outside."

"I don't really have a choice," Angel said as he tried to push her away. Even at his best, however, he wasn't strong enough to overpower her, much less when he was injured and most movements tended to send waves of pain throughout his body.

"Just give me a name and two hours," Buffy said.

"You can do that?" Angel asked, surprised. But he didn't let her answer to before adding, "Connor Reilly."

Buffy walked across the room and picked up a cell phone from off the table where she was keeping the bandages. "I'll do that," she said, flipping it open, "and you'll get some rest."

-

When Angel's eyes popped open, Buffy said, "Connor is okay. Apparently he and his family were visiting a university in New York when things went down."

In the back of his mind was the image of the look on Connor's face before Angel had killed him. Although now he was sure that Connor was safe, he couldn't shake that thought out of his mind. It made him tired, much more tired than his injuries, which were admittedly healing quickly.

Buffy knelt down next to him. Angel looked aside, away from her. There was paint chipping off of the walls, he noticed for the first time. "Who is he?"

She set a hand, small but strong, on the side of his face. He said, "Someone I need to make sure is safe."

"We all have our secrets." Buffy began to undress his bandages.

-

When he could sit up with only feeling echoes of pain from his wounds, he asked, "How's my city?"

"Clean, though I'd guess there are at least a few more demons hiding somewhere." Buffy was sitting a chair she must have acquired while Angel had been sleeping. "No one can quite pinpoint the death toll yet, but my guess is that it'll be high." He voice didn’t sound like it was her own. It was too old, too hard, too bitter. She turned around. "Property damage is expected to be in the billions."

She didn't look tired, thanks to the expertly applied makeup, but he could tell from her movements she hadn't been sleeping very well. "How are you feeling?"

"A little guilty," Buffy smiled warily. "I can't manage my Slayers very well through just a cell phone."

"You can go back," Angel said. He felt he should look away from her. "I'll be okay."

"I'm not leaving until you're better."

Angel knew he couldn't change her mind. Most of him didn't want to.

-

The city was a mess and the stench of blood was terrible in all the right ways. But the cool wind blowing against his face and being able to see and smell something besides four rotting walls more than made up for it.

"You've lost so much."

Angel wasn't sure if he grabbed her hand or if she grabbed his. "I've got practice starting all over."

Buffy reached into her back pocket and took out a slip of paper and pressed shoved it in his front pocket. "I don't have any idea who this Connor kid is, but it was pretty obvious he means something to you. I've got an address so you don't have to be a complete creepy stalker."

"Thanks."

They kissed. He ran his hands through her hair and tired not to think about why she tasted like the dusty air that had was in the house they shared for a little over a week. She pressed her palms on the side of his face and they were as strong and warm, as they always were.

"Don't think you've lost me too," Buffy said as her hands slid down his face.

"Not for a minute," Angel said, and felt it strongly, despite all evidence to the contrary.

She began to walk away. Angel retrieved the piece of paper with Connor's new address on it as he watched her.


End file.
